Hi ladies and gents! Here's the next chapter! Thanks to all of you!
Warnings: None, shockingly so :)
Sherlock came home exhausted. Moriarty had outdone himself this time with false trails and leads. He had less than a half hour to find Richard and he knew that he would be unsuccessfully. This man, Richard, would die a horrible death. It made Sherlock sick to his stomach as he dragged himself inside and knew that John was probably already sprawled out on the couch in 221 C.
Sherlock pulled his coat off and hung it on the wall before stepping into the living room. He paused when he saw Molly standing in the middle of the living room. She wore an almost sheer white gown that was floor length and her hair hung in soft waves down her back. He looked down and saw that she was barefoot. "Molly," he said, coming further into the room.
She turned to look at him, her face in obvious distress and shock. She was pale and trembling. "I was bored," she said softly. "Tired of being cooped up in your room. I came in here to watch a movie. I saw one was already in the player…" her voice trailed as she turned back to the television. Sherlock followed her gaze with his own.
His expression tightened and he moved quickly in front of her, blocking her view and shutting the television off. "I'm sorry, Molly," he said. "You weren't meant to see that."
"Is that real?" she asked him with a trembling voice. "Is that Richard?"
Sherlock looked down and nodded. "I've been searching for him none stop for the past eleven hours," he said. "I'm sorry Molly…"
"It's not your fault," she said. "It's mine…he's going to kill everyone isn't he….everyone that means anything to me. No one who knows me is safe. I've already lost Malinda."
"This is not your fault, Molly, don't you dare say that," he demanded.
"But it is, Sherlock, can't you see?" she asked. Her eyes were far away and seemed clouded. "I've got to go away. It's the only way he'll stop. I can't live with this…knowing that he's doing all of this because of me. Sherlock…I can't…it's too painful. I need to go now." She turned suddenly and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door.
Sherlock followed after her and reached the door just as the lock clicked. He could hear her sobbing inside the room as she moved about. "Molly, open the door," he said firmly, knocking.
She did not answer him. He could hear more noise and more moving about. He knocked harder. "Molly, please open the door. Let's talk about this," he said. "This is not your doing. He would do these things anyways, regardless of who it was."
Still she ignored him. He pounded harder on the door, so hard the door hinges creaked. "Open the door now, Molly."
"Please go away," she said and suddenly there was no more noise coming from the room. His heart pounded in his throat and he stepped back. He kicked out at the door, knocking it open with the force of the blow.
He quickly scoured the room and saw nothing, but heard something in the bathroom. He went to the door and she had locked that as well. He wasted no time forcing it open. He saw her legs as she kicked out, trying to maneuver herself out of his bathroom window.
He quickly grabbed her ankles and pulled her back in. She kicked out, trying to shake his hold. "Let me go, Sherlock," she screamed. "Everyone I know is in danger! I have to get away to save you all."
He said nothing as he grasped her around her waist and pulled her forcefully back inside. She turned in his arms, trying to fight him. He maneuvered her over his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her on the bed.
When she tried to scramble away from him, he was ready, straddling her and pinned her wrists down. "Get off me," she screamed. "Please! Sherlock I can't bear another death…please…"
He said nothing to her as she squirmed and kicked out. He knew she would soon tire herself out as she was still weak from her injuries and what she had suffered emotionally. She collapsed against the mattress, her face pink and glistening with sweat from her effort. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and her gown clung to her body. Sherlock had to force himself to keep his eyes on her face.
Tears filled her eyes and she began to cry helplessly. Sherlock let go of her wrists and lifted his leg over her. He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
"Why won't you let me go?" she sobbed. Her arms were trapped against his chest and she balled his shirt in her fists. "I have to go away…it's the only way…"
"Shh…" he soothed, gently running his hand through her hair. "Molly…I am so sorry that this is happening, but you cannot blame yourself. Even if you left, he would still hurt other people and he would hunt you down and hurt you. I can't let you go, not ever. I have to protect you."
Sherlock looked over Molly's head as John came into the room. "I heard a crashing noise," John said, looking down at the destroyed door.
"John, can you get Molly a sedative?" Sherlock asked. John nodded and disappeared back through the hole where the door once stood.
"No!" Molly screamed, renewing her struggles. "I don't want to sleep…I dream the most terrible dreams…I can hear the screams at the hospital…everything is burning…Malinda is burning…please…don't…"
Sherlock held her tightly, talking softly to her, trying to comfort and calm her. John returned soon with a hypo. He came into the room and sat down on the other side of the bed.
"No!" Molly screamed again when she felt the dip in the bed. "Please don't…"
"Molly," John said gently. "You won't dream, I swear. You won't even know that you are in the world."
Sherlock tightened his hold on her even as he turned her onto her back. He held her down while John took hold of her arm. She tried to wrench herself free from John, but he was too strong. He injected her quickly with the sedative and let go of her arm.
She struck out, trying to get free of Sherlock's hold on her. He grabbed the free arm and pinned it against her body. He watched as she fought to remain awake as her struggles slowed. He loosened his hold on her and she relaxed in his arms.
"Sher…" she said, her words slurring. "Sherlock…don't leave me alone…pl…please…Sher…"
"I'm not going anywhere, Molly," he said softly. "Sleep…go deep into your mind where nothing can harm you." He kissed her temple as her eyes closed.
John leaned back against the headboard and sighed. "John?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"How long will it take Richard to bleed out?" Sherlock asked. "How long will he suffer?"
John shook his head. "Not long," he said. "He will bleed out quickly. The pain will be great at first, but it won't last. He will go into shock and his heart will stop."
Sherlock pulled Molly against him as if she were his own stuffed bear. He buried his head in her hair. "What if he does this again, John?" Sherlock asked miserably. "What if I fail again and someone else dies?"
"We'll get him," John said, turning his head to look at him. "You know we will, we always do."
"She can't take much more," Sherlock said. "He's going to break Molly."
"He won't break her, Sherlock," John said. "Molly is one of the strongest people that I know. And she has friends who love her and support her. You'd be surprised what that can mean to someone."
"No I wouldn't," Sherlock said. "I have you, John. I know what it means. You have pulled me through some dark times."
"And you will help Molly through this dark time," John said. "She has your love and strength to carry her, if she has not strength of her own in the end.
Sherlock swallowed hard. "Do you think Richard dead?"
"Sherlock, why are you doing this?" John asked. "Why are you allowing yourself to feel this? You have said before that it does the person no good and clouds the mind. Why are you letting this eat at you? You can't let Moriarty do this to you. It is horrific what has happened to Richard and it is terrible that we could not spare him from it. But we did the best we could and when the time comes to help someone else, we will."
"This has changed me John," Sherlock said. "When I thought he had taken her….I have never known cold fear like that before. I've never had to feel what it would be like to lose someone that I loved so much that it took my breath away. Don't misunderstand me John, I was nearly sick when you were taken and put in that bon fire…and it would have killed me had you been hurt, but this…it's different."
John nodded. "It always is with the woman that you love, Sherlock," he said. "Men have this instinct to protect our women from all harm…we get angry and frustrated when we can't. We get angry and scared when they cry because we feel helpless. We want to take away all of their pain and be a balm to them, but sometimes it just doesn't work out that way. There are always going to be car wrecks or plane crashes or freak accidents or loved ones dying…"
"And maniacs…" Sherlock said softly.
"Yes and we can't protect them from the world, can we?" John asked. "We can try to do all that we can and nothing more. Sometimes we will be successful and sometimes we won't be. But we can be consistently there and strong for them. We can give them our love and strength to lean on."
Sherlock pulled Molly even closer to him, putting his leg over her. "I can't help but wonder if the fear I felt when I thought Molly had been taken is the fear that Richard's wife feels right now…knowing her husband is missing and in the hands of a madman," he said. "I hope he's gone, John…I hope that it is over for him. I hope he doesn't suffer…that Moriarty didn't do more to him."
John scooted down the bed and lay flat of his back, staring at the ceiling. "We will get Moriarty, Sherlock," he said softly. "You can't stop believing that. We will get him and this time, we will crush him."
"Cut him down," Jim said with a look of disgust on his face.
Mack reached up and cut the ropes of the dead man. Richard's lifeless body fell to the floor. He looked down at the man with such pity. Richard's screams had been blood curdling, nearly making Mack vomit with the horror of what he knew was happening to the man. But his death had come swiftly. He went into shock as he bled out fairly quickly.
"Clean up this mess," Jim said, sneering down at the dead man. "I am disappointed in Sherlock." He turned to leave Mack with Richard, but paused. "Ah well, everyone deserves an off day, even a genius detective I suppose. I'm sure he'll do better next time. I wonder who I should take this time…perhaps Molly's little niece. She is a cute little thing…"
"Not a child, you bloody psychopath," Mack shouted, unable to keep his emotions at bay any longer.
Jim stared at him for several moments in silence before tossing his head back to laugh. "Good heavens Mack," Jim said. "What do you take me for? Of course I won't kill her niece; she's only seven years old for Christ's sake." Jim snorted and shook his head. "I said, who should I take next, not kill next. Good God, Mack, calm you delicate nerves. Daddy's not completely heartless…"
Mack swallowed hard, but said nothing. Jim smiled. "Relax Mack," he said. "I'm only sending you to bring the little girl here. She's going to stay with Uncle Jim for a while, that's all. And then once you do that, you can go get daddy another toy. This time you can bring me Mark."
Mack watched as Jim turned and left the room. When he was alone in the room, he dropped to his knees and covered Richard's body with a sheet. "I am so sorry, son…"he whispered. "I didn't have a choice…if I don't help him…he'll hurt my daughter…" Mack's voice broke with a sob. "I'm sorry…" he choked out, his body shuddering as he sobbed openly.
So I decided to spare you a graphic death scene...I'm a nice girl...although my muse, who seems to take the form of Jim, is glaring at me for being soft. I told him the improtance of imagination :)
Hope you all liked this chapter and I thank you all for reading! I appreciate all of you! Hugs!
